


Good Little Soldier

by piginapoketuesday



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Bondage, CBT, Dirty Talk, M/M, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Torture, Plot What Plot, Porn Without Plot, cock and ball torture, dom!Dean, sub!cole
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-19 14:49:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3613932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piginapoketuesday/pseuds/piginapoketuesday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cole partake in a BDSM relationship. Dom!Dean. Lots of bondage. Cole is a good little soldier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Cole felt the air circulating through the room on every inch of his body. A tricky pattern of ropes accentuated his naked form, framing his pecks, abs, and thighs. His shoulders were kept straight by the bonds that tied his wrists to the small of his back. He knelt on the cold floor of the Bunker dungeon, cock mostly soft but twitching promisingly with excitement.

Dean eyed his perfect slave with a measured stare, fastening the leather cuffs at his wrists that would protect him from the backlash of a whip. He was fully clothed in washed-out jeans and dark blue plaid over a black Henley. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing the mark on his forearm that named him a Knight of Hell and Cain’s successor.

“You ready for this, Deano?” Cole held his chin high, and Dean couldn’t help but admire the sloping muscles of his neck.

He smirked, walking closer to the man on his knees. “Did I say you could talk?” He set his hand on Cole’s chest. “Open your mouth.”

Cole obeyed. As soon as his lips parted, he felt thick, salty fingers against his tongue. He fought the urge to gag as his mouth was explored, knowing that this was only the first trial of many before his master would be satisfied with his performance.

Dean withdrew his fingers and bent to press his mouth to Cole’s. A heady scent of sweat and arousal touched his nose, and he smiled into the kiss, ravaging the younger man with his tongue. When he pulled away, he noticed Cole with his eyes closed and mouth open for a split second before he recovered and looked up.

“You’ve been a good little soldier, keeping this cock of yours soft and pliant for me.”

Cole gulped when he felt Dean’s hand between his legs, groping him obscenely, rubbing at his slit and thumbing his hardening length.

“But my slave can’t deny my hands, can he?”

Cole shook his head, holding back a whimper as he was fondled.

“I think I’ll tie you off here and have some fun. Yeah. Don’t move.” Dean walked to the opposite wall of the dungeon and grabbed a length of thin rope. He returned and knelt before his submissive. “I’m hard just thinking about how much you want to touch your cock. Must be torture.” He looped the rope around Cole’s member, then around his balls, then back around his prick, and so on, until both organs were tightly bound. He pulled teasingly at the end of the rope, and Cole moaned in pain, the pressure on his swollen package a divisive tool. “Tell me how much it turns you on, knowing how much control I have over you.”

Cole flushed deeply from his neck to his groin. Dean knew exactly how much.

The eldest Winchester tugged on the rope again. A yelp issued from his slave’s mouth. “Tell me.”

“A lot,” he gasped, the southern thickness of his voice more pronounced in his strain.

“And who owns this cock?” He gripped the base and began to dry-stroke.

Breath hitched in Cole’s throat. “Y-you, Deano.”

Dean pulled at the rope, loving just how desperate it made his plaything. “What are you thinking about right now?”

Cole could feel Dean’s hand moving on his dry cock and the unbearable constriction of the rope. “Your—mouth.”

“Mmm, what about my mouth?”

“S—sucking my stomach—”

Dean smiled and lowered his head to Cole’s abdomen. He pressed his lips against the quivering flesh and sucked, drawing blood to the surface. He pulled and twisted his hand on the bound cock, reveling in the sounds his slave made.

“Jesus, Dean—”

“What else are you thinking?” he asked against the slippery skin.

“Lower,” Cole begged, his cock twitching in Dean’s hand.

Dean obliged, sinking down and tasting the suffering prick with just the tip of his tongue. His hand found Cole’s throat and pressed deeply.

Cole’s breathing became shallow, each draw raspy and jerky, which only forced him to buck up in the hope of finding more contact with his master’s lips.

“Oh, no, my eager little soldier,” Dean said, moving backward and releasing Cole’s neck. “You aren’t getting off that easy. I’m gonna play with you all night.”


	2. Chapter 2

Cole didn’t dare moan in defiance as his master stepped away.

“Good boy,” Dean said, as if to a dog. “Holding your tongue. Are you craving my hands on your body?”

The soldier nodded.

“My eyes will have to do for now. You feel me looking at you? At your muscled chest heaving? Swallow for me.”

Cole obeyed, glancing awkwardly at Dean.

“Your throat, with that sheen of sweat collecting in your collarbone.”

Self consciously, Cole swallowed again.

Dean laughed quietly. “Does it make your cock drip knowing that I’m watching you? I can see your head, dribbling pre cum. Just for me. Just for my eyes.”

Cole trembled, his lust overpowering his senses. He was half ready to beg Dean to touch him.

The hunter moved toward him again and knelt. With two fingers, he touched the swollen knob of Cole’s prick and gently stroked, barely moving, barely squeezing, knowing it would drive his lover mad.

“Please,” Cole begged, wishing immediately that he could take it back. He looked at Dean in fear.

“Please what? More pressure? I have more pressure for you.” He slipped his hand into his pocket and withdrew a thin silver rod about seven inches long.

Cole twitched in longing for the pain to come, but also in apprehension. “Deano, please—”

“Shh.” Dean pressed the rod to his own lips and let it slip inside, coating it with his saliva. Cole watched his master repress a gag as the metal touched the back of his throat and slid down . . .

When Dean withdrew the rod from his mouth, he pinched the head of Cole’s aching cock, opening up his slit.

“Dean—” Cole whined. He was forced to watch as Dean pushed the slippery device into his penis. He cried out as it went in, writhing and shaking. But god, it felt amazing.

Dean’s face was calm. “I think my little soldier needs a gag. I can’t have you making all that noise.” He stood and left Cole with the rod impaling his erect cock.

The pain between his legs was awful, but Cole had never been more aroused. He felt so bare, looking at his master riffle through drawers for a handkerchief. The ropes burned his chest, wrists, and balls, and the sound made his prick ache from within, but all he could do was pant with need.

Dean returned. “Open.” When Cole opened his mouth, he set the handkerchief between his teeth and tied it behind his head. 

Cole was left to feel the dry fabric against his tongue. He felt a pang of loss, knowing this meant he wouldn’t get to taste his master for quite some time.

“Now, how is that cock, hmm? Hurting?” Dean squeezed along the length, and Cole howled into his gag. “Good. Maybe this will teach you not to beg unless I ask for it.” He rubbed at the ridge behind the head. “You’re gonna regret that. Trust me.”

Cole moaned helplessly as Dean slowly stroked him, feeling about to burst but unable to due to the rope restraining his balls. Dean knew exactly which buttons to press to make him wriggle. All he could do was watch the strong hand move along his shaft, swirl his tip, massage his sack . . .

Dean kissed his slave’s neck, eliciting a desperate sound. “Good boy, taking my torture.” He sucked lewdly on his partner’s Adam’s apple, still toying with his most intimate parts. “Mmm. It’s not fair, though, that you’re so exposed and I’m not.”

He moved backward and stood again, leaving Cole to whine and drip and quiver. With his eyes on his submissive, Dean slowly pulled off his plaid button-up and slid his undershirt over his head. He left the clothes on a table and stood, in full view of Cole, rubbing the leather strap at his wrist.

Cole salivated against the gag, eyeing his master’s toned stomach, and the way his arms, pulled into his body, flexed gently with each movement of his hands. His eyes fell shamefully to the belt at Dean’s waist, and lower, to the obvious bulge in his jeans.

“Enjoying the view?” He reached down and gripped his crotch, fondling it idly. “You want to see my cock?”

Cole nodded, groaning.

“Since you asked nicely.” Dean pulled at his belt and released the clasp. He casually unzipped his jeans and pushed them down from his waist. Stepping out of his shoes, he placed the rest of his clothing on the table.

Cole thanked Heaven that Dean had decided to wear white boxer briefs. The outline of his thick, hard cock was clear, and a small spot of wetness accentuated the head.

Letting his slave see him this way was not actually intended to make them more equal. Cole knew as well as Dean did that this display was nothing more than a show of Dean’s power in their relationship. His strip tease, his visible erection: neither made Dean more vulnerable. It was abundantly clear which one of them had the upper hand, since Dean’s throbbing prick wasn’t the one tied and trussed, and he certainly wasn’t the one moaning at just the outline of another man’s package.

Dean approached Cole and pulled the handkerchief out of his mouth. He pulled Cole’s head forward until his lips touched his master’s tented underwear. “Go on.”

Cole whimpered low in his throat at the heady scent of Dean. He kissed wetly at the bulge, then began sucking along the length. As the fabric moistened, Cole could taste his master, and he eagerly worshiped the cock and balls as if they were bared to him.

Dean tried to keep his breathing measured, holding on to Cole’s shoulders as his manhood was serviced. Afraid of losing self-control, he moved away from Cole’s lips and knelt to kiss him. He could taste himself in his slave’s hot mouth, and he made a mental note to take an hour off of Cole’s orgasm denial, just for that expert tongue that he loved so much.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean grunted, feeling depraved himself without the heat of his submissive’s mouth on his cock. He looked down at the man on his knees, with the sound in his prick, covered in ropes, sweating . . .

“You look amazing like that.”

Cole looked up, surprised. Compliments were rare when his master was in domination mode. “Thank you, sir.”

“But your chest is too clean. Let’s mark it up.”

Cole swallowed, knowing that meant the whip. He watched as Dean took the toy out of a drawer, brandishing the many-tailed end like a sword. His cock twitched in anticipation of the sting. But Dean didn’t just grab the whip.

The oldest Winchester returned to his partner and knelt to attend to his throbbing manhood. Cole eyed the duct tape and vibrator next to the whip. “This is going on your cock.” Slowly, he unraveled the tape and ripped off a strip. Then, he nestled the thick vibrator against the underside of Cole’s member, with its tip at his sensitive ridge. He wrapped the tape around Cole and the toy, and then he turned the dial at the bottom of the vibrator. It came to life, buzzing cruelly, making its victim squirm and whine.

Dean stood up, whip in hand. “I love vibrators. They’re robotic. No escape, just pleasure.” He smiled down at Cole’s shaking form, knowing how erotic and tortuous it must have been for him to bear such sensations and not be able to cum. “Or pain,” Dean said, and he lashed whip against Cole’s bare chest.

The younger man cried out, his flesh smarting. His penis was throbbing, the vibrations making his balls contract, rubbing against the ropes that kept him in limbo. He felt Dean strike again, and again, and again; felt his chest growing red and inflamed, just like the poor cock between his legs; felt his nipples burn—

Dean gripped Cole’s chin. “Tell your master how you feel.”

“It—it hurts—” he managed, breaths shaky.

“But?”

“God, Deano, it feels so good—”

“How badly does my good little soldier want to cum?” he demanded, whipping Cole again. His submissive moaned and yelped simultaneously.

“Please . . . please . . .”

Dean whipped his slave’s tied prick. Cole screamed. “Not yet. I want you sobbing and pleading.” He pressed his fingers against the heaving muscles of Cole’s neck. “Sobbing and pleading with my cock down your throat.”

Cole could hardly bear the sensations in his groin as it was, but the idea of being tortured until he was nothing but a twisted and willing mouth made him whimper.

“That’s it,” Dean said. “All the things I’m going to do to your cock.” He took it in hand, vibrator and all, and began to stroke. Cole writhed madly. “Maybe I’ll suck you dry, hmm? More orgasms than any man can take. Chain you to a table and just worship this dick until I lick the last clear drop from your twitching head—“

Cole started to hyperventilate, his eyes watering and throat closing as the pain and pleasure became too much. “Dean—Dean—Dean—Dean—”

“Is my little soldier ready to serve me?”

“Dean!” Cole begged.

The hunter removed his boxers and let his cock spring free. He put his hand behind Cole’s head and set himself at the quivering lips. “Open your mouth so I can fuck it.”

Cole obeyed, and Dean began to thrust, knowing his slave would gag on him before he could adjust and relax his throat. The problem was, Cole couldn’t stop crying, his own manhood still tormented by the vibrator and the sound. He choked on his master, moaning and spluttering, and the sensation of his mouth and throat constricting sent Dean over the edge.

Unable to swallow, Cole let Dean’s cum drip down his chin. The Winchester softened and gave himself a moment to recover. Then, he knelt and untied the rope binding Cole’s cock and balls.

The soldier roared as he came, expelling the metal sound and shooting ropes of cum at Dean’s chest. The vibrator stimulated him through it, forcing his orgasm to last as long as possible. When it was finally over, Cole looked down in horror at his duct-taped prick. The toy was still going strong. He looked up at Dean, pleadingly.

Dean Winchester smiled. “I think you can cum again.”


End file.
